


be still, my soul

by egoistkid



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Mormonism, Murder, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:27:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egoistkid/pseuds/egoistkid





	1. Chapter 1

“Ever wonder how you’ll die?” It’s snide— she means, ‘ _I’m sure you’ll die soon, being such a filthy heathen, so have you started fantasizing about it yet, you evil-doer_?’ or something to that effect. Tabitha doesn’t let the intentions phase her.

“I know how I’m gonna die. Drinking too much coffee and vibrating out of existence.”

“Don’t say that,” She says quickly, cutting off the end of the controversial sentence that hung in the air. Tabitha, used to following instructions from church-goers, shuts her mouth and merely stares at the other. The demand was counter-intuitive as with the girl shutting her mouth, the conversation couldn’t continue, and the two would be stuck again in Awkward Silent Oblivion, all by themselves. It would be easier to bite the bullet and just continue with a potentionally offensive discussion rather than the dead silence. Especially in a place like this.

“You asked. Not my fault you’ve been brainwashed into being afraid of coffee,” Tabitha mumbles with an irritatingly calm voice, absently playing with a piece of her black hair.

She dyed it before she left— a nonverbal act of rebellion as she strode into that Sunday’s sacrament meeting, smelling of chemicals with her suddenly unnaturally dark hair, wearing ripped jeans and combat boots instead of a long skirt. She’d stuck out like a sore thumb— and of course her parents were none the wiser, since that morning, she was waking up from a sleepover at a normal friend’s house (Holly, the one that she’s known for years— the one ‘outsider’ she was allowed much closeness with, the long-suffering of constant rants about Mormonism and Tabitha’s crazy family). They’d done it the night before in Holly’s bathroom, blasting punk rock tunes. Her parents were under the impression she’d be skipping church (not a rare occurrence), but, boy, were they shocked to see her walk down an aisle and plop down in the back pews, five minutes late.

This was just the kind of detestable heathen she was, after all, and she took pride in it, just as she took pride with leaving. Leaving, of course, being used metaphorically— Is there a way to truly leave the Church for good as a then-16-year-old with a hyper religious family? At least now there would be absolutely no way she’d be able to return. Now 18 years old, she was fully excommunicated, and God, did it feel sweet. The ends truly did justify the means, she thinks jokingly. 

“I don’t want to be talking to you,” Ellie nearly hisses, refusing to look at the girl adjacent to her. She’s usually so put together, her long curly hair tamed, dark eye bags covered with concealer that perfectly matches her shade of brown, clothing fashionable and modest, just like the picture perfect Mormon girl she was destined to be from birth. But now? Her face is flushed, she’s stumbling over her words, her nearly black eyes are filled with worry and shame and dart around the sparse room— everywhere but at Tabitha. ‘Disheveled’ hardly even covers what a hot, but still conventionally pretty, mess she resembles right now. “You think I chose to be here with you, princess?” Tabby, the ever-so-quick-witted, replies.

Despite her urge to quibble with this girl for hours, Ellie can’t really refute that, so it’s her turn to shut up for a beat or two. Then, a sharp inhale, and finally, eye contact. Tabitha’s hazel eyes, rimmed with what seems to be gold, are locked with hers and she waits for the other to speak up, with an air of confidence that annoys Ellie to high heaven.

“I’m not like you. I’m good. I don’t disobey my parents, or speak against Him, I don’t challenge His Commandments or try to claim His Church is untrue.” She whispers, her tone fast-paced and harsh. Tabby’s heard it all before, and doesn’t reply, merely sits there with a grin on her face, being infuriatingly pleasant. “I don’t go against nature like you do. I don’t try and refute what I already know is true or joke about following evil. I’m good. I’ve been saved. You’ve been taken. And you’re going to an especially dark place when you do die, which I’m sure will be soon with whatever kind of reckless stunts you do in your free time.”

Tabby is already well used to this spiel; but her patience grows thin and her sharp tongue decides to take the lead, as it usually does. 

“Wow, really practicing your missionary skills here, Sister. You realize there isn’t even a chance of you becoming one after what you’ve done to land yourself here? Tell me, will you start your preaching to every potentional investigator with the implications that they’re destined to burn in Hell? I’m sure that’ll nab ‘em for sure!”

With this, Ellie looks like she’s going to start cursing out in rage, but says nothing as she raises her hand and slaps Tabitha across the face, hard.

There’s a long period of silence. Awkward Silent Oblivion. But without the bickering, what else would they do in here? Tabitha lifts her head up and smiles at Ellie. “Love your neighbor, El. Doesn’t seem like we’ll be spending much time apart from now on.”

Ellie takes another sharp inhale, begins to tear up and hugs herself around the waist. She’s done with talking, it seems. And all Tabby can do is stare for a few minutes before getting up and climbing up the steel ladder of their bunk beds, laying in her top bed and clutching the thin blanket to herself. She turns on her side and glances outside of their jail cell, the clock that can be seen outside of the metal bars— 1:30 AM. Yep. This is going to be a long-lasting “friendship” together, whether they like it or not. 


	2. Chapter 2

_Two years before the previous chapter._

 

When Tabitha reminds her she’s won’t be the last victim at the hands of the bishop, her hands begin to shake. When Tabitha tells her the history of countless reports gone unnoticed, and how all kinds of different churches get away with these acts, her knees wobble. When Tabitha takes her hands gently in her own and rubs her thumb over the knuckles, whispering to her that it’ll be okay, that she’s here for her, she breaks.

Her knees give out, causing her legs to slam down and hit the concrete. Her face is next to follow, but Tabitha grabs her by the waist and hoists her torso upright. “Whoa, there, dolly. Let’s stay conscious for now, okay?” They’re alone together outside, near a basketball court a few blocks away from the church. Ellie’s mom was under the impression she was at a fireside, and Tabby’s parents could care less. They’ve already taken to ignoring her existence completely, counting down the days until she turns 18 and will legally not be their problem anymore.

“Why are you the only one who cares?” Ellie’s voice quavers. Tears blur her vision and she grits her teeth, trying not to let them fall. Whenever she starts crying, she can’t stop, and she doesn’t want to look like a crybaby in front of Tabby.

“Because they’re vampires, Ellie. They suck the life out of you until you have nothing left and refuse to admit the mistakes of their coven. They’ll leave you to rot.”

“Just because you’re a blasphemer doesn’t mean you can turn me into one.” She snaps back, not thinking of the weight of her words. The insult slides off of Tabby with ease.

“Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.” They’re starting to sound like an old married couple. “Do you want to come get ice cream with me?”

Ellie approaches the proposition with overt caution, the question ‘you mean, a date?’ clear on her face, her brows furrowing. “Come on. I’m not going to use my bisexual charms of evil against you or anything.”

Ellie cringes at the word ‘bisexual’. This time, Tabitha doesn’t make a quip against her about it. In fact, she pushes down the nausea-inducing feeling of shame that lies deep in her stomach when Ellie reacts the way she does, as if it’s something disgusting that she has to hide from the world around her. No, she’s long abandoned that train of thought— fuck that.

Ellie gets blueberry cheesecake and Tabitha gets a scoop of dark chocolate with black sprinkles. Ellie sticks her tongue out at her and utters a “you wish” when she playfully suggests sharing a double cone. The two sit in quiet harmony across from each other in a tiny table seated by the corner of the shop.

“So, I’m still good on egging his house, hacking into his computer, and leaking his history. What do you think?” Tabitha murmurs. The girl adjacent to her seems to drain of emotion.

“Let’s kill him.”

 Tabitha, the long-suffering of violent and homicidal intrusive thoughts, does not flinch at this or laugh. Instead, she glances up and gently asks, “Is that really what you want, Elizabeth?” She uses the full version of her name in a rare moment of softness.

 She doesn’t respond, only bites down on her lip and focuses on not bursting into tears. The people around them have no idea how grim their conversation is— two high school girls having fun out on the town, nothing abnormal or criminal about that.

If only they knew.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
